The Fire of the Forest
by Trinxy
Summary: Years have passed from the Battle of the Five Armies. The Woodland Realm has gotten back to its peace and quiet. The quiet of the slumbering kingdom is broken when young elfling is brought in to answer the King. Who is this unknown elf with fire in his eyes? Thranduil has to find out, even if it costs his pride or ego.
1. Chapter 1

It was another autumn day in the kingdom of Mirkwood. The golden sun was setting behind the far reaches of the Misty Mountains, casting long shadows along the walls of the palace of the peaceful Woodland realm. Many years have passed from the Battle of the Five Armies and the feeling of eminent doom had faded from the woods for decades, allowing the elves to breathe more easily.

The lives of elves have gone by slowly, but surely. After the huge losses of lives they saw in the battle, the population of Silvan elves started to grow. The King noticed many young Silvans running around the palace, having fun and being merry. It always made him smile, because it meant once again, his people felt safe.

Despite his stern demeanour, he genuinely loved the company of young elves. They were so carefree, so open. Whenever he had a chat with one or two of the elflings, it almost made him forget his worries and his aching heart.

Decade and a half.

That's how much had passed since the Battle. Thranduil still ruled his kingdom with his silent fury and strong will.

He was sitting on his throne in the middle of the vast caverns of his underground realm like no years had passed. The wooden crown in his hair looked still the same, perhaps just few more leaves and berries had grown into it. He was the same, he even looked the same. Even though he didn't feel the same anymore.

It was fifteen years since he last saw his son. True, Legolas did send him notes whenever he changed his destinations in his travels and from time to time Thranduil got a word from Lord Elrond about his son's adventures. His son wasn't coming back to his home. And neither was Tauriel.

After the battle, Tauriel had disappeared. Of course, she was under the impression that she was still banished from the Woodland realm and before Thranduil had chance to take back his harsh words towards her, she was gone. No-one never found her – no matter how much they searched. In his desperation, he had even sent a query to Lothlórien and to Rivendell to ask about her. But she never showed up to neither of the great elven realms. She was gone, without any words or goodbyes.

Thranduil always regretted the way he had dealt with the whole situation with the dwarves and with the relationship of Legolas and Tauriel. In his desperate blindness, he didn't see the consequences of his actions so far ahead. He acted with raw emotions and anger, never really stopping to think and ponder if he was doing it all for the right reasons. In truth, at least some of his actions were founded on good, understandable reasons, but majority of them were just an answer to his wounded pride and wounded heart.

He wanted to forgive Tauriel, he really did. She had a good heart and everything she did for her dwarf was for the right reasons. Even if he did not like her particular reasons. But he never had a chance to voice his thoughts to her, because after Ravenhill, she was gone forever.

And now here he was. Alone, sitting on his throne and listening the far voices of his elves doing their everyday things. The palace is busy like a beehive and every now and then he hears a yelp or laughter, which makes him feel a bit better. Silence in his own halls is the last things he wants.  
The last forest patrol has still not returned and he decides to wait until they arrive, before heading to his quarters.

He does not have to wait for long, since he sees Thannor, the newest Captain of the Guard, approaching the throne.

" _Hîr Vuin_ ," Thannor stops and bows to the King.

"Thannor," Thranduil nods. "What news from the border?"

"Nothing much, my lord." The Captain continues. "The Spiders have not returned to the nests we destroyed few moons ago, which is very good. We reached as far of the west end of the forest without any problems. No orcs, no goblins nor spiders to report about, my Lord."

"That is very good news," Thranduil nods again. "Seems that the dark forces of Dol Guldur have left the forest be for a while. Keep your guard up, Captain, and I am waiting for the same kind of report back in few days."

He dismisses the captain with a wave of his hand. But Thannor doesn't move.

"My lord," he bows again.

"What is it?" Thranduil furrows his dark brows and eyes the man with suspicion.

Thannor clears his throat and searches for words to continue. "Uh… we… uh… We found something from the edge of the forest you should see, my King."

Thranduil's intrest perks up and he looks the Captain of the Guard curiously. "What is it you talk about Thannor?"

Captain signs for one of his guards to approach. He does, dragging a little person behind him.

Thannor grabs a hold of the youngling and pushes him in front of the throne for Thranduil to see.

It is a young elfling, only few decades old, from the looks of it. The little boy has strawberry blonde hair that curl a bit in the ends of the strands, his face is muddy and his clothes torn. He would seem like an ordinary Silvan elf, but when Thranduil looks into his steely blue eyes, he sees the fierceness in them. He sees passion, he sees fire, he sees raw emotion.

For a second the young elfling reminds him of someone he used to know. A flash of anger and regret runs through him. He gets up from his throne and walks down the stairs, his golden robe whispering behind him. He stops in front of the boy and looks down at him.

The boy doesn't back off or doesn't even flinch when their eyes meet again.

"Who _are_ you?" Thranduil asks, narrowing his eyes.

The boy answers with same gesture. "Who are _you_?"

"Don't you know who I am?" the King asks with slight irritation.

The youngling sighs. "No, I do not."

"What were you doing in my forest?" the King continues.

"Your forest?" the boy's eyes widen in surprise. "I thought the forest was for all creatures, big and small. The forest does not belong to anybody!"

Thranduil smiles at the irritation of the young elf. "That is where you are wrong, my dear child. The part of the forest you were found belongs to the Woodland Realm, we do not want any trespassers in our woods. What were you doing there alone? Where are your parents? Your companions?"

The boy nods briefly and then swallows nervously. "Forgive me, I did not know that I had wandered so deep into the forest for I breached the borders of your lands. I did not mean to do that. Would you be so kind and let me go. My mother is waiting for me at home and she will have my backside tanned if I am late to show up to home."

Thranduil nods to the guards and signs them to go away. The Silvan guards make their way back to their quarters silently, leaving only Thannor, the King and the young little elf to the throne room.

Thranduil starts to walk around the boy, taking in his last words. "Your mother?"

"Yes." the boy sighs and says nothing more.

"But not your father?" the king asks.

The youngling shakes his head. "No. I do not have a father."

Thranduil nods again, deep in thought. "What is your name, boy. Who is your mother?"

"I am Tor-Hùrion." the boy looks up to the king's eyes. "My mother is a healer of the forest, as Radagast says."

"Radagast?" the crease between Thranduil's brows deepens.

"Yes. We live near to Rhosgobel. The old wizard is a friend of mine." Tor-Hùrion answers.

"A forest healer?" Thranduil murmurs and turns away from the young boy. "I have never heard any healers living in the edge of my forest."

"It is not your forest where I live," Tor-Hùrion answers to the King and observes his tense backside.

"Tor-Hùrion?" Thranduil turns around to face the boy. "Your name implies you are part of the forest. Are you not?"

The youngling smiles. "No, my lord. My mother tells me that once we were part of the forest, but yet we don't live in there anymore."

"So, what were you doing in my forest then?" Thranduil approaches the boy once again. "If you don't live in the forest, what business did you have there?"

"I was just collecting mushrooms. And chasing the young rabbits." The boy stutters a bit and glances down at his feet.

Instinctually, Thranduil feels that he is not telling the whole truth. He wants to know more. But at the same time he sees the weariness on boy's features. The young elf is tired and will collapse soon, if he doesn't do anything.

"I know you are lying." The King finally states to the boy, after a long pause. "But, we will continue this tomorrow. Rest now." He turns to Thannor. "Take him to the guest rooms. Make sure he has access to food and clean clothes. Put two guards behind his door. He is a captive and cannot anywhere in this palace until I get the whole truth of the story."

In the corner of his eye, he sees Tor-Hùrion getting furious. His face is turning red and he yells to the king. "Why I am a prisoner? I did nothing! You have to let me go!"

The King answers with the same ferocity. "Not unless you tell me the truth!"

"I did!" the youngling shouts back.

"I know you did not! But this does not matter. I have time. I will figure this out. Now, _ego_!" Thranduil signs to Thannor to leave and take the prisoner with him. The Captain grabs the boy by arm and starts dragging him away. The boy is reluctant to go and he tries to hit Thannor. The Captain only smiles at this and starts to push the boy in front of him.

"You'll regret this!" The boy screams to the king.

Thranduil only smiles at the fury of the young elfling and this is amusing him. He has not seen such a fire in one of the elves in such a long time, he has started to miss it.

He follows the pair down the path with his blue-grey eyes. Even though the Captain of the Guard is stronger than the boy, he is having hard time pushing the boy to the direction he needs him to go.

King smiles at commotion. He is just about to turn away from them and head up to his throne when something catches his eye. The young boy is armed. There is a dagger on his hip.

That wouldn't mean much if it would have been an ordinary dagger. Almost all elves are armed, even if it's only a dagger or a small knife.

But this dagger… He knows every curve and edge of the dagger, because he has seen it before. He'd know it from anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

There he was.

Sitting in the cold, almost empty room, completely alone. His mother had been right all along. Her words rang in Tor-Hùrion's mind. _"Lasto, Ionneg. The forest is not a place for being alone. It is full of dangers beyond your strength. You are yet young to be there alone."_

The elfling sits down on the plain bed that is meant for him and sighs.

Never in his life has he been so deep underground. It makes him feel cold and disconnected from the world that he knows. All of his life he had lived on the edge of the green forest. The plains between the Anduin and Mirkwood have always been his playing ground, sharing it with the Beorn's beasts and sometimes even with some curious animals from Rhosgobel.

And now, cold walls of the caves surround him, leaving the feeling of loneliness inside him. He has been alone before, but never felt alone. His mother's love was always his companion, even if she wasn't able to physically be there for him, whenever he needed her.

He stands up from the bed and walks to the little table that had food on it and takes in his surroundings. The room is very plain, only a bed, a chair and a little table in one corner and a small bath at the opposite corner. The room almost feels like prison. Which in his case, it is.

Tor-Hùrion tears a piece out of the bread and put it into his mouth. He chews few times, almost tentatively and then nods to himself as if in agreement. The bread seems to be very good and he, in fact, was getting really hungry. He takes the whole bread into his hands and starts eating the fluffy food with huge bites. He finishes it off quickly, taking a big gulp of water to wash the pastry down.

He is just about to sit down to bed again, when he hears the door behind him open. He turns around just in time to be face to face with the silver glory of the King of Mirkwood again.

"Leave," the king tells to the guards behind him, whom quickly make their way out and close the door.

The boy straightens himself, trying to look taller in front of the elf-king. But he doesn't say anything and is watching the older elf with curious eyes.

"I have a question for you, youngling." Thranduil announces.

Tor-Hùrion nods. "I'm listening."

The King points to the long dagger on his belt.

"Where did you get this?"

The boy looks down and pulls the dagger out of the stealth carefully, trying not to point it at Thranduil.

"This?" he looks at the King questioningly.

"Yes," Thranduil breathes out annoyedly. He is impatient. He demands, "You have to tell me."

Tor-Hùrion looks at his dark blade with a wooden hilt. "I have always had it, as long as I remember."

"It's impossible." The king puffs out a breath of air and starts to pace along the room. "It's impossible that you have this dagger. It was lost long time ago, you can't have that blade in your hands."

Tor-Hùrion furrows his brows in confusion. "I do not understand you. How can it be impossible, if it is possible?"

"Tell me, who gave it to you!" Thranduil demands again, getting more and more agitated. "Or did you take it off a dead body?"

The elf ling gasps loudly at that, "How dare you to imply such thing!"

"Where else you would have gotten this?" the King is practically yelling at this point.

It is the last straw for Tor-Huron and he yells back with the same kind of fire. "My mother gave it to me for protection!"

All of a sudden, all the blood from Thranduil's face seems to be gone. He had fair skin to begin with but now he looks like he had seen a ghost, his cheeks pale and eyes hollow. "Your mo…" he gulps and takes a breath. He repeats quietly. "Your mother?"

"Yes." the boy hisses out. He is utterly confused by the change emotions that the King carries in himself.

Thranduil looks at the boy with intensity, but doesn't come any closer. Instead, he turns his head away from the elfling and asks. "Pray tell, where she got the dagger?"

Tor-Hùrion is silent for a little while, trying to remember exactly what her mother had said. "When I asked about them many years ago, she only said that these were remnants of her old life. A legacy that keeps her safe from the horrors of this world."

"These?" The King whispers. "There are two of them?"

"Yes," The boy nods. "One for me and one for her."

The King nods as an answer and presses his lips together. _"Far."_ he whispers and promptly leaves the room, leaving the young boy alone and confused.

* * *

Thranduil makes his way to his quarters. It has been a long day and even longer evening. He feels his elven bones aching and all he wants to do is put his head on a pillow and sleep. But he can't. Not when there is a thousand questions running around in his head.

Who is this little elf with fire in his eyes?

Thranduil has no doubts at this point. No doubts at all about the mother of the child.

It's too obvious.

Tauriel would not leave his dagger with just anybody. The sign that Tor-Hùrion has one of her daggers only means one thing. Tor-Hùrion must be _her_ child.

But how? When? Why?

The questions flood his head and he lets out a long sigh just when he reaches his rooms.

Galion closes the doors behind him and he is finally alone.

Ditching his long silver robe, he heads towards the table by the pool. He reaches for the wine bottle and pours the red liquid to a beautiful glass.

With the wineglass in his hand, he walks towards the balcony in the far end of the room.

He has not seen Tauriel for around twenty years. Ever since the horrible day at the Ravenhill, when he failed to protect her and after that, he never saw her again. She was still under the impression that she was banished and fled, leaving him and his realm into the sadness of the loneliness.

Tor-Hùrion must be at least fifteen or more years old by the looks of it, Thranduil thinks by himself. Such fire in his eyes. Thranduil should have seen the connection between his former Captain of the Guard and the young prisoner earlier than this. He should have understood it at the moment he saw the boy. But the years clouded with solitary days have left a mark in him.

But why now? Why did the young boy got lost in the forest and dragged into the deep realm of the Mirkwood now? What is the meaning of this?

Thranduil shakes his head as if trying to create some order in the chaos in his head. But it's useless. The only thing it creates is more questions and they keep popping in to his mind like mushrooms after rain.

He reaches to the balcony and leans against the railing. The first rays of silver moon greet him, before it disappears behind the treetops. He sighs and lowers his head.

Then, a sudden thought enters his tortured head and he pushes his head up again, his eyes squint and concentrate on the silhouettes of the trees.

 _If the child is Tauriel's, then who is the father?_

The boy looks positively Silvan in his heritage, but there is something more to it. Surely, Tor-Hùrion can't be the child of the dwarf Tauriel had briefly loved. Or thought she had loved him. There is nothing in the looks of the young boy to suggest that he is a mix between elven and dwarven races.

No. The child is positively elvish.

But who? Legolas? Somebody from the guard? Maybe…

Suddenly his thoughts come to a halt and his mind concentrates to only one thing – a long dark blade pressed against his neck.


	3. Chapter 3

The time stands still around him. His mind is focused solely on the blade at his neck. He takes in a deep breath before he even dares to speak.

He knows instantly who it is.

It doesn't take a genius to figure this out. No-one in his court would have the guts to attack him in his own quarters. The only one, who would be brave enough or stupid enough to do that, to step against her king, is standing behind him. She has defied him in the past and, for sure she will continue to do it in the future.

"Tauriel…" he breathes out.

The air around them tightens.

He doesn't move. He knows the sharp blade could cut his neck like a knife through butter.

"Where is he?" Taureil's demands, her voice raw.

Thranduil can hear desperation and tiredness in her voice. He almost feels sorry for her. But the emotions buried underneath his calm exterior, are starting to surface now, and he cannot bring himself to feel sorry for her.

Whatever it is in her voice or in the aura around her, his body and mind react to it. Instantly.

He can't just let her do her this, come to his palace unannounced, sneaking in and threaten him. It has never been his mind to surrender to anyone, even in the pressure of war. It's all or nothing.

Tauriel can go back where she came from. She has no power with him.

He decides to play.

His bottom lip twitches and his eyes squint in concentration.

As calmly as possible, he asks. "Who?"

Hearing a puff of laughter behind him he tries to move, turn around. But the pressure on his neck increases.

"Don't even think about it." Tauriel grits through her teeth, stepping even closer to him.

"I have no idea who are you talking about, Tauriel." he smirks.

"Oh, you haven't?" She mocks his manner of addressing things before leaning closer to his ear and whispering. "Then, for sure I saw hallucinations that I saw your guards running around in the woods, dragging a young boy behind them?"

"He's downstairs," he states suddenly, feeling his plan coming together.

Tauriel breathes out a relieved sigh and loosens her grip of her blade a bit. It gives time for Thranduil to turn around to face her. She realises her mistake quickly and the sharp edge of her dagger is embracing King's pale untouched skin again.

He halts his movements and their eyes meet. He has not seen her for over 20 years and it seems that Tauriel has not aged a day. She still has this fiery glint in her eyes and redness in her cheeks.

All of Tauriel's red hair is in a long braid that falls down her back and she is wearing a weird mix of clothes that doesn't make any sense. He can see the parts of Tauriel's old Captain's uniform underneath a long woollen tunic that seems to be a tad bit big to her. The pattern and the material looks strikingly similar to what young Tor-Hùrion was wearing when he was brought in.

He squints his eyes again and focuses solely on her green eyes. His mind starts to race as the memories surface from somewhere deep in Thranduil's conscious. _Those same green eyes, in different setting. Those green eyes looking at him like he is the world to her. Like he is made of stars. The love and gentelness, softness and smiles._ But nothing remains there anymore. He can see only hurt and anger.

His voice is icy cold when he says. "Why do you care?"

Instead of answering, she puckers her lips and continues to point her dagger at him. "Where is he?" she asks again.

Thrandruil smiles again, but there is no joy in his features, only nasty pleasure he's getting out of the situation. He knows how to stab with words. "Why do you care so much, Tauriel? Who is he to you? A child of your dwarf lover?"

Tauriel just stares into his eyes and he sees a flash of anger burning in her. He knows this fire very well. In another time, another situation he would have enjoyed this fire. But this time, her anger is companied by hurt, fear and tiredness.

Tauriel closes her eyes and opens them again, lowering her voice into dangerous territory. "He's _my_ son. I ask again, where is _he_?"

"And then what?" he barks back at her, anger flashing through his features. "What will you do after you have saved him? Are you really stupid enough to think that I would let you run freely after you have held a weapon against me. Against your king?"

Tauriel presses her lips together and grits through her teeth. "You are not my king anymore. I am banished, remember? I will do as I want, you can't stop me!"

Thranduil decides that enough is enough. He has let her play her little game, but he's nobody's pawn.

He moves fast, kicking away her dagger to safe distance and taking her down before her mind even registers what he has done. He is kneeling over her, one hand presses her shoulder down and with the other hand, he presses his fingers to her throat and squeezes.

"Wha…" she wheezes, but Thranduil squeezes more forcefully, not allowing her to speak. She starts to squirim and wriggle beneath him, but he doesn't allow her to move.

She's not going anywhere anymore.

"Of course I can stop you," he hisses against her ear. Tauriel starts to shake her head. That stubborn elf. She just _has_ to fight. Always. Thranduil smiles at that but continues. "I would be still your king, if you would have not been so stubborn and run away with your wounded pride."

On the ground, Tauriel tries to open her mouth and argue with him, but as she cannot breathe, there is no voice escaping her tired form.

"After all I have done for you, Tauriel, and this is how you repay me? A knife in the back?"

He squeezes her neck harder, completely blocking he throat. She cannot breathe anymore. For a moment, he feels ridiculous doing this. It's soothing to his aching soul. A payback for all she did to him. A payback for her actions.

Tauriel's face starts to turn into a suspicious side of blue and she's slowly losing consciousness. Suddenly, with a final squeeze, he releases her throat and steps away from her.

He takes few calming breaths to appease his racing heart.

This evening has gone from bad to worse with every second. Ever since the little boy was brought in, his feelings and his emotions have left his control. He doesn't like it. And even though he suspected he was Tauriel's child, her appearance in his quarters just confirmed it to him. Why should he let her run free? He has every right to throw her into jail, lock her up for good. He has crossed the line so many times, he cannot count them anymore. But at the same time he cannot bring himself to see her rot in one of his cells down in the dungeons.

Behind him, Tauriel is gasping for air and for the longest of time, that's the only sound he hears from her. When her breathing finally slows down there is an eerie silence around them. None of them moves. Neither of them wants to be the first to break the silence.

Thranduil is just about to open his mouth and ask Tauriel, when he hears shuffling sound behind him and he reacts before he even thinks about it. Kicking the dagger away from her with one smooth motion, he steps in front of Tauriel again.

She's crawling on her stomach and halts when she realises that Thranduil is standing just in front of her. Slowly she lifts her head up and looks at him.

"Thranduil…" she whispers.

A whispery chill runs down his spine. He hasn't heard his name in a long while. Not with that kind of emotion behind it.

He closes his eyes for a second and sighs.

"Why, Tauriel? Why now?" is all he asks.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Why, Tauriel? Why now?"_

* * *

Thranduil is very serious about that question. Why now, of all times, she decides to come back to his kingdom and mess things up again?

 _„Am man theled?"_ he asks again. _„Man cerig?"_

Tauriel, who is lying in front of him, sighs and lowers her head against the cold floor of his majestic chamber floor.

With a weak voice, she whispers. "Please, please let me see him. He has never been apart from me for such a long time."

She looks up again, her eyes tracing the silver robe of his from his legs to up his torso. She hesitates to look him in the eye again.

"Please," she whispers again.

He sighs.

He is in a crossroads of a sort. On one hand, he could release Tauriel and throw her out of his realm, but he knows that she is unable to stay away, as long as Tor-Hùrion remains in the caves of Mirkwood. On the other hand, he could imprison both Tauriel and her cursed child and be done with it. But once again, he cannot be sure that the jail bars downstairs will hold her.

With a cold, distant tone of his voice he orders, "Stand up, Tauriel."

He gives her time to push herself up from the floor until she is standing upwards on her two wobbly feet. He does not take eyes away from her, scanning every inch of her. She seems to be hyper aware about every move he makes, so he starts to pace around her, observing her from every side.

"Thranduil…" she whispers again.

He notices that she purposefully refuses to call him King.

"You will not call me that," he grits through his teeth. "I am _your_ King, you will address me as such."

Tauriel closes her eyes again and she touches her face with her hand, "You are not my king, Thranduil."

He stops in front of her, his movements halt. With a sly smile, he answers. "Oh, but you are wrong there, you _will_ be my loyal subject again."

"I do not think that is possible _, Avon_!"

Thranduil laughs at that, it is not a joyful, heartfelt laughter, but rather a cruel one. "Yes, it is possible. You sneaked in to my highly guarded kingdom and threatened your King with a dagger. In my eyes, it is enough reason to throw you to the prison for indefinetly."

Tauriel's face falls. "Prison?" she squeaks. "Indefinetly?"

Before he can throw some other venomous words back to her again, he watches her eyes roll back in the sockets and the small body of the red-headed elf drops to the ground.

Thranduil tries to yell for help, but no voice exits his mouth. Instead, he lunges forwards with speed and before her head slams to the hard floor, he gets a hold of her body. His arms sneak around her arms and he pushes her head against his shoulder.

"Tauriel!" he shouts and shakes her in order to wake her up.

She does not react.

"Tauriel!" he shouts again. _"Echuio!"_

This yields the same kind of silence. He cradles her head with one of his hands, the other tries to get hold of her legs.

"Guards!" he yells to the door. He knows that the stationary guards will be there. Within few seconds two fully armored guards appear to the door.

 _"Hîr vuin?"_ one of them asks, the other observes his king with wide eyes.

 _"Boe de nestad!_ Get the healers! _Noro!"_ He shouts to the guards and they disappear as quickly as they came.

He is left alone again, the unconscious form of Tauriel in his arms. He gets better hold of her body and sneaks one of his arms underneath her legs to lift her up from the ground.

He notices that her body weighs nothing when he is carrying her across the room to place her one of his lounging chairs. He softly releases her body and gently places her head against the back of the chair.

Crouching down beside her, he pushes the few strands of red hair away from her face. His hands rest against her cheek and he notices how cold she feels against his skin. Her face is white as a sheet. She is so unbelievably skinny. In his fury, he did not notice it before. No wonder that the clothes she has seem so big on her.

He continues to caress her cheek until he hears the footsteps behind the doors. He hears a faint knock against the mallorn-wood door and he stands up, ready to face the rushing healers.

"Enter!" he shouts and two of the best healers of his realm, Alwa and Maeron, step in. They both look at him in confusion for a second, but when he points to Tauriel, they nod and rush to help her.

The healers don't ask anything from Thranduil and he is very happy that they don't. The both of them don't need to know what happened in his quarters during this time of night, even if they want to.

He steps away from the healers and heads to the balcony again. He needs some air.

Before anything happened here, he intended to spend a quiet evening in the fresh air, but now he just wishes to push _all_ thoughts away.

He can't.

Because, just when he steps closer to the edge of the balcony, he notices Tauriel's dagger again. He changes his direction and picks the weapon up. He looks towards the door and he sees one of his guards waiting there. He signs him to come closer.

"Here," he gives the weapon to the palace guard. "I need you to go downstairs and bring me our newest prisoner."

The guard nods. Before he can turn himself around and head to the said location, Thranduil stops him again.

"Take everything he is wearing away and give him new clothes from our stocks. After that, bring him to my quarters. Clear?"

"Yes, My lord!" the guard answers and with a nod, he is off.

The healers are still tending Tauriel and he silently observes them from afar. Alwa, the grey-headed healer turns to him and their eyes meet.

"We need to move her to the Houses of Healing," she states.

Thranduil nods.

"Take few guards with you," he says to the healer. "She needs to be under guard. Never leave her alone, understood?"

Alwa nods and turns to the guard, who is still standing in the doorway, to make arrangements to move the young elf-maid.

Within few minutes, the guards, the healers and most importantly Tauriel, are gone from his sight and he is left completely alone. As he quickly realizes it, he walks to the nearest chair and sits down gingerly, his right hand rises to massage his temple.

He sighs, "What a mess."

He doesn't know what to feel or think anymore.

He has probably felt a whole range of emotions he has not once felt in 20 years prior to Tauriel's reappearance. The slow anger still simmers in him, as it has been relit again. The other emotion that surfaces is fear. Fear of Tauriel's fate. He doesn't remember Tauriel being like that in the past. While she was living in the palace, she was always fed and looked after, but living in the woods has taken a toll on her and she looks absolutely retched. She looked like she was few straws away from fading.

 _Fading?_

Thranduil takes in a startled breath.

A sudden thought about the possibility of Tauriel's fading hurts him. Even though he has lived most of his life alone, suffering, the thought of Tauriel's death makes his heart hurt. No, he does not want Tauriel to leave Middle-Earth. Yes, he is angry at her, oh so angry, but no, he does not want Tauriel to leave Mirkwood ever again.

He shifts uncomfortably in his chair and sighs yet again. His mind starts drifting in the path of old memories, suppressed somewhere deep inside his brain. He remembers the young red-head maiden sitting in this very room, having a heated chat with Legolas about their studies

* * *

 _"No, Legolas," Tauriel's voice carried around the two male elves. "I am sure it was Quinga we were discussing last week, this week was about Megil. Do you remember anything our teacher was saying today at all?"_

 _Legolas snorted. "Yes, Tauriel, sometimes I do pay attention. And no, it was most definetly the technology of bow and arrow we were discussing this week. We haven't reached the swordfight part of the studies yet."_

 _"Are you saying that I am lying?" Tauriel mocked the young prince. "Or that I imagined it just now?"_

 _"It might very well be," Legolas shot back, "But I wasn't the one falling asleep while Gularien was speaking."_

 _"Oh shhh…" Tauriel laughed and hit Legolas' knee._

 _Thranduil, who was seated further away from the two younglings, listened the whole conversation with a small smile. He was admiring the poor orphaned elf they had found just few decades ago from the woods. She had been adopted by one of the families of Thranduil's court back in the day and ever after her arrival to the palace, she had always been in and around the Royal Quarters a lot. Her friendship with Legolas had been instant, they bonded fast and they were spending almost all of their free time together, either studying of playing around the palace._

 _Legolas was just few hundred years older than Tauriel, but he still had this childish streak in him and when she came around, he found a perfect companion in Tauriel They couldn't be separated. At these times, Thranduil did not mind. The friendship was good for Legolas, who had been emotionally down after his mother had died and two hundred years for grieving was a long time for young elf. And Tauriel brought out the sunny side of his son and he could not deny him his friend._

 _The two elflings were hitting each other playfully, like some sort of weird game they had, when Thranduil cleared his throat. Both Legolas and Tauriel seemed to have forgotten that he was even in the room and they stiffened._

 _"Ada." Legolas admonished."Prestad?"_

 _"No," Thranduil smiled to his son. "I was just thinking that it is rather improper to act like two small elflings when you are both over a hundred years old."_

 _"Ada," Legolas smiled back. "Don't worry. We can behave, if necessary."_

 _"Yes," Tauriel added and smiled back to the King._

 _Since he and Tauriel were interrupted while having fun, Legolas stood up from next to her and started walking towards the door. "If our childishness is annoying you, we could leave you alone, right, Tauriel?"_

 _Tauriel was still sitting on couch._

 _She didn't stand up and walk after Legolas just right away. She was staring at the elf king. He didn't meet her eyes at first, but when she didn't answer to his son, he looked up to see her looking at him intently. Their eyes met and suddenly there was a strange emotion coursing through his body. A kind of emotion he hadn't felt ever since her wife passed into the Halls of Mandos. The emotion was raw and unexpected, so Thranduil averted his eyes from her and cleared his throat again._

 _Tauriel stood up after a moment of silence and answered to Legolas, "Yes, we could."_

 _As she passed by Thranduil and the elfking could see the redness on her cheeks and the way she was now avoiding to look at him. In that moment he realized that she had been affected by this as well._

 _As his son and Tauriel left the Royal Quarters, Thranduil stood up and stared at the couch Tauriel had occupied. The feelings this brief encounter raised in him left him surprised and confused. Why her, why now, why this again?_

* * *

The knocking on the door startles Thranduil out of his daydream and he stands up to greet one of his guards who has returned with Tor-Hùrion.

 _"Le fael,"_ he addresses the guard, who nods and steps closer to the table and places all of the young elfling's weapons and clothes there, together with both of Tauriel's daggers. Thranduil nods again and waves the guard to leave.

"Sit," he says to Tor-Hùrion. _"Av-'osto"_


	5. Chapter 5

Everything is blurry when she wakes up. She can see colors and shapes of things around her, but her vision is not sharp enough to make a difference between them.

Confusion kicks in.

The sight in front of her cannot be right. It's so familiar but at the same time, surely impossible. How did she get back in the halls of the Thranduil's Castle again?

Her eyes trace the soft lines of the pillars around her and she recognizes the Houses of Healing.

In her youth, she had spent quite a fair time in those rooms. But she hasn't been back in those halls in decades; surely, her mind was letting her down.

She closes her eyes, almost wishing that she could be back in her small house and when she opens her eyes, the homely interior of her lodge would greet her. But nothing of a sort happens.

Instead, a fair-headed Sindarin elf approaches her bed. The graceful silver-headed woman stops in front of her and eyes her.

"Gwende Tauriel, you are awake!" the older elf smiles. "Finally."

Tauriel blinks, trying to focus her companion. When the healer doesn't get a response from the, she opts to sit to the chair next to Tauriel's bed and talk with her.

"Deep breaths, injured one," the healer Athaelin murmurs. "Slowly and deeply."

She finally smiles when Tauriel starts breathing calmer. "There you go."

"Where am I?" Tauriel whispers, her voice sounding strained and rough.

"You are in the Houses of Healing, melin."

"In Thranduil's halls?" She just wants to be clear.

"In the same one. We are deep underground, away from the reach of the evil."

"Okay," Tauriel whispers again.

So this is true. She _is_ back.

"What happened?" she asks.

The memories of the last few days are jumbled in her head and she wants to understand.

The healer just smirks and leans her head against the wall. With a soft voice, she starts speaking.

"You came to the Mirkwood Realm again, Tauriel, to get your son. He was captured by the patrol a day ago. You tried to attack the King but fainted. Does that sound familiar?"

Tauriel closes her eyes, since a wave of nausea hits her by surprise. Everything the healer tells, she remembers. Even the small details she was sure she would not remember.

She curses in her mind, why did she have to come there? To face her old demons again.

She did it because of her son, she reminds herself.

She opens her eyes fast. Her breathing quickens. "Where is my son? Where is Tor-Hurion?"

The healer shifts closer and catches Tauriel's hand with hers.

"Calm down, Tauriel." she orders with a soft voice. "Your son is well. He is with the King. He came to see you few hours ago, but he was too tired to stay down here. The king took him away by himself. As much as I heard, all is well and he is sleeping in the King's chambers."

Tauriel's eyes widen "King's chambers?"

The healer nods. "The king seems to be really attentive with the child."

"Oh," Tauriel sighs softly and relaxes against the soft pillow. Athaelin lets go her hand and it falls against her side.

She doesn't say anything and stares the ceiling for a long time. She doesn't see how the healer is gazing the fire-headed elf.

The Athaelin's curios gaze stays upon her until the healer speaks again.

"Tauriel, can I ask something from you?"

Tauriel opens her eyes again and turns her head towards the healer. "I think so?"

The healer smiles softly at the doubtfulness of the younger elf. She understands clearly that Tauriel doesn't really want to speak much. But she is going to ask anyway. She needs to know.

"Tauriel, why do you have bruises all over your body? I tended you when you was brought in here yesterday evening. Your body looks like a battlefield. Cuts and bruises at the ribs, big gash along the thigh, several bumps hidden beneath your long hair, a cut behind your ear. Tell me, dear one, what you have been doing the last few days? It's a miracle you survived so far. That big cut on your thigh should have taken you out immediately, the blood loss should have knocked you out."

Tauriel breathes in through her nose. "It did. But I couldn't afford to stop. I needed to continue."

"I see," the healer nods. "The wounds seem really bad. They had started to rot by the time I got around to cleaning them. Tell me, was that an orcish blade that cut through your leg?"

Tauriel nods. "It was."

The healer smiles. "Thank you. That was all I needed to know. For you to know, I tended all your cuts myself. Nobody needs to know about those if you do not want to. You are safe here."

"I appreciate it, Athaelin," Tauriel answers and gives a weak smile to the healer.

"Rest now, Tauriel. You need to get back your strength." The healer says and gets up from the chair.

"For what? For me to be thrown into the dungeons?"

"That I don't know, Tauriel. This remains to be decided by the king. But currently you are in the Houses of Healing and your fate is mine to decide for the time being," says Athaelin.

Tauriel remains silent and eyes the healer doubtfully.

"Don't worry. Everything will be okay."

And with those words, the healer leaves the room, leaving Tauriel to battle with her own thoughts.

* * *

Few rooms away from Tauriel, the healer stumbles upon somebody she did not expect. The King himself is standing in the middle of the healer's private rooms.

"How is she?" he asks immediately when she sees Athaelin coming through the door.

"My king!" the healer is taken aback. "I did not expect to find you in here!"

Thranduil nods but continues. "I am sorry to have come unannounced. But I am here for a reason. Now tell me how is she?"

The healer waves him to sit down into one of the chairs, taking a seat next to him herself. "Tauriel just woke up. She remembers everything, but she still seems to be little fuzzy. She knows where she is and why she is in here."

"Ah," the king nods and signs her to continue. "Can you tell me what is wrong with her? Tauriel, the elf I know, could not have just collapsed from bad news I gave her. Something has to be wrong with her. Could you tell me what it is?"

Athaelin nods.

"Well, she seems to have encountered some orcs on her way to Mirkwood, since her whole body is like a battlefield. She has a cut on her thigh which caused her to loose quite big amount of blood. She also have bruises, cuts and bumps all over her body. She has taken quite a beating before she arrived to this castle."

The healer finishes talking and is greeted by silence.

She turns to the King, but she finds him gazing into the distance. Athaelin doesn't say anything.

Finally, the Thranduil breaks the silence.

He sighs and says, "I see."

Then, without a word, he gets up from his chair, and walks away from the room. Leaving the confused healer behind.

She does not follow him. She doesn't need to. She knows exactly where he is going.

* * *

"Tauriel," he whispers softly, making the fire-headed elf to startle slightly. Tauriel wasn't expecting any company, nevertheless her beloved king.

"My … K... King?" she stutters, pulling her blanket high under her chin, like a protection from whatever bad news coming towards her.

"Can I come in?" he asks, genuinely concerned.

Tauriel nods slightly, not really sure about her decision. Thranduil takes it as an invite and steps in. He stands right before her bed and eyeing her from head to toe.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asks.

"Not good." Tauriel answers honestly.

"It is no wonder, Tauriel. From what I heard, you took quite a beating."

Tauriel nods, cursing under her breath. The damned healer, why she had to share the information with the king?

"You don't want talk about it?" Thranduil states.

Tauriel looks right into his eyes. "What's there to talk about?"

Thranduil sighs and sits in the same chair Athaelin had occupied before.

"What's there not to talk about, Tauriel?"

"Can you just leave it be? You do not have to know everything about me."

"Oh, that's where you are wrong." Thranduil smirks, feeling quite comfortable sitting near to her.

"I _have_ to know everything. Especially when it is about the orc pack near to my kingdom. The healer tells me that you have met them."

"Met them?" Tauriel smiles slightly. "Well, that is one way to put it."

"Well, tell me then. Where did you stumble upon them? I need to know. For the protection of my realm."

Tauriel takes in a deep breath and pushes herself upwards to the sitting position. "They found me at the bridge of the enchanted river, just as I was about to cross it."

She looks up to Thranduil's eyes. She wants to see his reaction when she breaks the news. "It wasn't just a pack. The orcs are gathering there. I think there are hundreds and hundreds of them. I am lucky I escaped the pack of scouts alive and I didn't alarm the whole army of them."

"Few hundred orcs you say?" Thranduil's smile disappears from his features. "What are they doing in my kingdom?"

He stands up abruptly. "Thank you, Tauriel. I must go."

And without even a glance back at her, he leaves.


	6. Chapter 6

Tauriel awakens with a jerk.

Her dark dreams left a mark in her breathing pattern, which now is shallow and fast. She blinks rapidly to gain back her sight through the haze of the dreamland. As she is trying to calm her breathing, she notices a silhouette of an elf in the chair at her bedside. For a second, she freezes. But when her vision clears enough, she recognizes the person sitting beside her.

She smiles softly and reaches for the hand of the elfling sleeping in the chair. It's Tor-Hùrion.

She wonders how long has he been sitting there, watching her sleeping.

Tor-Hùrion seems to be uncomfortable in the high and slim chair provided by the healers. His head is leaning against the wall, his mouth agape, but he is shifting around in his sleep. Tauriel takes it as a clear sign of restlessness, as she has witnessed him doing countless times before.

 _"_ _Henig"_ Tauriel whispers and caresses the hand of his son.

She blinks back the tears when all the emotions rush in. It has been several days since she last saw her son. She was so sure that she had left him home, safe and sound, while she was investigating the damage done by orcs in the previous night.

It was a request from Radagast.

Since the brown wizard had helped her a lot during her time of need, she couldn't say just _no_ to him. Even it had meant leaving her son home alone with practically no protection.

" _Ionneg,"_ Tauriel whispers, more strongly this time. "My son, wake up."

Tor-Hùrion begins to stir and suddenly his blue eyes open. He blinks rapidly few times and then stretches. When he turns his eyes downwards, he sees his mother lying there on the bed and he smiles and practically yelps, " _Naneth_!"

It's all blur after that, because Tor-Hùrion flies to the embrace Tauriel is providing him.

"My sweet child, I love you so much," Tauriel whispers to her son, her nose pressed into his hair.

" _Naneth_ , " Tor-Hùrion rushes to apologize. "Oh, mother. I thought you would never come to get me. I am so sorry to have left the house. I promised to be there, but... the rabbits were calling me out and I had to go... you have to believe that I didn't mean to do this. You have to. Oh, _Naneth_..."

" _Henig,_ " she tries to stop the flow of her son's words, but it doesn't seem to help. She tries again, more loudly this time. He stops his rambling and looks at her mom.

Tauriel smiles sweetly to her son. "My love, it's ok. We are okay. And we are safe now. Do not feel guilty in any way. Okay?"

"But, mother-" Tor-Hùrion starts but Tauriel raises a finger to stop him talking.

"No, Hurion, no buts. We are ok. You are okay. And that is enough for me."

"But you are not okay, _Naneth_! You are injured and in trouble, all because of me," the words pour out of him and he looks at his mother with tears in his eyes.

„Oh, _Meleth_ ," Tauriel sighs and kisses his forehead. „The wounds will heal."

Tor-Hùrion presses his eyes shut and tries to stop himself from crying. He snuggles himself even closer to his mother, his head finally resting on her chest.

Tauriel just tightens her arms around his light form and kisses his hair.

She doesn't know how to calm her child down. Because Tor-Hùrion is not a child anymore. While he may seem like small ten-year-old boy for the humans, he is elf by blood, which means his mind has fully developed, like a grownup elf, while his body looks like a small child. He doesn't miss a beat about the things that are going on around him. He knows that the both of them are in trouble. He just doesn't know how big of a mess this affair is.

The pair of them remains in the same position for a long time and Tauriel just relishes the feel of his son against her chest.

Finally the boy seems to have calmed enough and he raises his head. "I am so sorry," he whispers again.

Tauriel just smiles and caresses his cheek with her fingers.

"Are they treating you well?" she asks softly.

Tor-Hùrion nods.

"I feel like a prisoner in here. Mostly because of the guard who is following me everywhere. But the King has not thrown me into one of his prison cells yet. So I think it is okay so far."

"Good," Tauriel mumbles. "Are you going to stay here or will you be escorted away anytime soon?" She asks, glancing towards the opening, where she can see a tip of a Guard's sword.

"I think they are letting me stay here at the moment," Tor-Hùrion answers and settles himself back to his chair, but never letting go of his mother's hand.

They stay like this for hours. They talk about what happened during the last few days, they talk about the Woodland realm, they talk about the king.

Eventually, Tauriel falls asleep again, as her exhausted body is trying to heal itself.

Tor-Hùrion refuses to leave his mother's side when the Guard suggests it some hours later.

That's how Thranduil finds them when he walks in the room in the evening.

* * *

The elf-king is tired from the several days' worth of action during this one morning. He had to deal with the searching parties going out on a quest to find the huge orc pack currently hiding somewhere in his forest. Then he invited together the crisis council for an entire afternoon, to discuss the highly probable fight with the orc army in the very near future and he had ordered all the Captains to be ready for the battle plans as soon as the word from the searching parties comes in. He made sure that everything was ready for the arrival of the news.

It was almost evening time, as he saw the sun setting behind the horizon, and he already felt tired.

He decided to check in on Tauriel, before he'd excuse himself and hide into his quarters.

What he didn't expect is Tauriel's son accompanying her mother in her room in Houses of Healing.

Tauriel, as he was told upon his arrival to the recovery wing, was asleep. So was her son.

Tor-Hùrion had moved the chair closer to Tauriel's bed and his head was lying against her chest as he was sleeping there. It wasn't a comfortable position, but he must have been really tired as he fell asleep like this.

Thranduil sneaks in closer to the bed and he feels some unnamed emotion tug his heart a bit.

He remembers a picture like this from hundreds of years ago. But instead of Tauriel, it was his wife lying there, sick after an especially cold winter and tiny Legolas beside her, trying to make her feel better. The whole situation is eerily similar to him and all that he wishes for is to come closer and hug the both of them.

Thranduil's eyes widen in surprise of the thought of hugging Tauriel.

He shouldn't think like that.

He should be mad at her – for returning to his halls and taking her child with her. He is in enough trouble as it is, he doesn't need it anymore.

But in the other hand, he is happy she came to his kingdom. He now knows about the orcs before they ever reach his halls. He and his army can kill them swiftly and he could return to the regularity of his life as it is.

He hears Tauriel moving and his eyes return to seek to her face.

She opens her eyes and she looks around in confusion.

Then her eyes find his and for a long moment, they stare each other.

"Hey," she whispers.

Thranduil nods back.

"Is there something you need?" she whispers after another long period of silence.

"I came to talk with you," he answers, his voice soft. "But I see you are otherwise occupied."

Tauriel smiles and looks down at her son, pride and joy making her heart swell.

"Yeah," she whispers. "He missed me."

 _I missed you too,_ flashes through Thranduil's head, but thanks to his good reflexes and skills of holding back everything he thinks, he doesn't verbalize this thought. But the stray thought stays within him and starts to grow inside his heart. He really did miss her, even when he didn't realize it himself.

Instead, he smiles.

"It's understandable," is the only thing he says.

Tauriel nods too.

Another long silence.

"Are you getting out of the recovery wing soon?" he asks, trying to find topics of conversation.

"Yeah," Tauriel smiles again. "Athaelin told me that as soon as I can walk, I could be out of the Houses of the Healing."

"And can you?" he asks, curious.

"I think so. The wound, as deep as it was, didn't cut in any of the biggest muscles, and it seems that if I train right, I could get back the full use of my leg."

"That is very good news," the Elf-king states.

"Yes," Tauriel agrees. "Although, while I appreciate your willingness to let us stay here, I am sure you'd rather see me in one of your prison cells."

At her statement Thranduil is a little bit taken aback.

His anger has passed and worry has crept into his soul instead. Even though he had threatened to throw Tauriel into his jail, he was not meaning to do that. Now that he had Tauriel in here, he didn't want to let go of her yet.

And prison was the last thing he could think of right now.

"No," Thranduil sighs, "I do not want you in my prison."

Tauriel's eyes widen. "Indeed?"

"I see you have suffered enough already and I can count it as a fair punishment for all of your wrongdoings," he tells her.

"And, besides, I am keeping your blades," he adds as an afterthought.

Tauriel nods, deep in thought. _"Bain."_

"Then we are in agreement?" Thranduil asks.

"Of what?" Tauriel asks, her face contorts in confusion.

"That you are not going to prison after you get out of here?"

"Yes," Tauriel relaxes.

"And the fact that you would accept the guest quarters as your home while you are recovering from your wounds?"

Her face probably betrays her inner panic, because Thranduil stops her before she can open her mouth and argue with him. "No, I don't take no as an answer. You are staying here."

"But," Tauriel tries to protest.

"No buts," Thranduil is adamant. " _Dîn._ "

"Fine," she sighs. She never could argue with the king, even when she really wanted to. His superior mind was always powerful enough to silence all of her protests.

And even though she really wanted to go home, the thought of actually going there with an injured leg and with her child and nobody to protect them.

"Then it's settled," he states. "I will go and order the guest quarters to be ready by tomorrow." As an afterthought, he adds. "I can take Tor-Hùrion in there right now, if you want to. I can see that it's not the most comfortable position for him to sleep in."

Tauriel looks at her son for a moment and nods to the king. She wants her son to have a normal night of sleep for a change. She expects Thranduil to wake his son up and order the guards to accompany him to the quarters.

And thus why she is looks in surprise and horror when Thranduil bends down at the boy and takes him into his arms. She is about to protest, but the king is already out of her room with her child in his hands.

* * *

 _Henig_ – Child

 _Ionneg –_ Son

 _Naneth –_ Mother

 _Meleth –_ Love

 _Bain –_ Fair enough

 _Dîn –_ Silence


	7. Chapter 7

It turned out that Tauriel wasn't allowed out from the Houses of Healing until few days later.

By that time, she had gathered enough strength to walk to the guest quarters alone with a walking stick and Tor-Hùrion at her side, looking over her every move.

She was glad that the boy was with her, because as they were walking along the narrow pathways from the sick ward to her room, Tauriel started to notice some hateful glances towards her and her son from the other Silvan elves.

She guesses that some of them have not really forgiven her that she abandoned her post during the battle and her own race after war had ended.

She is glad when she finally reaches to the safety of the guest quarters. While in there, she makes a discovery - the location of her new living space is just few steps away from the King's quarters.

 _Interesting._

Tauriel and Tor-Hùrion enter the rooms and her son is happy to show her around there, as he has been living there for few days. He fills her in what has happened while she was mostly sleeping in the recovery wing of the Houses of Healing.

He tells her that Thranduil, the king, had rode out few days ago with an army so big that Tor-Hùrion couldn't even count the numbers of the elves that had gathered to leave.

When Tauriel asks if King and his army have returned home yet, the answer is short – no.

Nobody has any idea what has happened to them, but everyone seems hopeful for the safe return of his and his army.

"What have you been doing in here, besides visiting me upstairs?" Tauriel asks, hugging her son.

"Well, the Captain of the Guard thought that it was good idea to add me in the training group with the other kids, while we are staying in the palace."

"Oh really?" Tauriel is surprised. „How did you meet the Captain of the Guard?"

„Well." Tor-Hùrion smiles. "I met some of the elves my age in here and they are starting the sword training soon. They had a meeting yesterday. And they invited me there as well. … I thought that it would be a good idea."

"I think it is a very nice idea," Tauriel agrees and let's go of her son.

"I am glad you think so, _Naneth_." Tor-Hùrion smiles again and seems to be genuinely happy.

"When are you going to start the lessons?"

"On the morrow," the youngling answers and heads towards the table placed in the middle of the room. He grabs an apple from the basket there."First thing in the morning. I have to be ready for this." He turns to look at her mom. "Will it be different of what you have taught me?"

Tauriel nods slowly before answering. "I have taught you mainly the art of the daggers and a bow, but not swords. So, yes, it will be different. I am glad that you have that chance."

Changing the subject, Tor-Hùrion asks with a genuine worry. "Are you feeling better?"

Tauriel smiles to his son, trying to reassure, "I am feeling so much better, _meleth_. I don't know what I would have done without the healers in here."

The room falls into silence after her words. Tauriel looks at her son curiously and Tor-Hùrion keeps looking down. She knows that there is something that is unsaid between them and it's bothering him. She decides to poke on the subject matter and get whatever it is that worries him out of his soul, so that the relationship between them would fall into the usual rhythm again.

"What is it, _Hùrion_?" Tauriel asks, stepping closer to him.

The elfling shifts on his spot uncomfortably. Finally, when his mother gets close enough to him, he raises his eyes to meet her glance.

"It's just…" Tor-Hùrion is unsure if to continue or not.

"Just?" Tauriel prompts.

"Why haven't we done this before?" he gets it out. He sighs.

"What do you mean by this?" Tauriel is confused, although she has a clear idea what her son is talking about.

"Mother," he starts. "You clearly belong into this kingdom. Why have we been living away so far from here?"

Tauriel nods at his words. They are true in their meaning.

She knew this was coming. She has known it ever since she entered Mirkwood, as she was trying to locate her son.

She knew that Tor-Hùrion would have questions about her choices she has taken along the road.

She sighs heavily and the silence falls between them again.

Finally, with a soft voice, she says. " _Henig_ , I have had my own reasons not to return here. Someday, I will tell you about them, but today is not this day."

Tor-Hùrion nods at this, taking her words in.

"Did something happen in your past?" He asks.

"Yes," comes the short answer from Tauriel.

"Is it connected to the Battle of the five armies?" He asks again.

Tauriel jerks at this question. She wasn't expecting this. Her mouth falls open as she is staring at her son.

"I have heard people talking around here. I … assumed," he explains.

"Oh," Tauriel blushes, feeling the blood starting to boil in her body in anger mixed with shame.

 _People still talk about her?_

"I mean." Tor-Hùrion stutters, "I know you don't want to talk about this now, but I care about you, _Naneth_. I don't want to see you get hurt by cruel words."

Tauriel feels the tears fill her eyes as she stares at her son.

She is looks at the clear blue eyes of his and feels the love that surrounds two of them. Her son is so serious, so concentrated on making her mother feel better. First time in forever Tauriel sees Tor-Hùrion's father in him. The exact same look in his eyes, the focus. His concentrated glance giving the feeling like there is a storm raging inside him and he is keeping it back by his mere willpower.

Tauriel takes in a shaky breath and smiles to her son.

"Hùrion, _Meleth_ , nothing can hurt me anymore. Not anyone's words or actions. I have you and it is enough for me." She steps closer to her son and hugs him hard. "Your love is enough to protect me from anything."

Tor-Hùrion hugs her back and it takes some time till they release each other.

Finally, he grabs Tauriel's hand and guides her around the suite, to introduce the spacious rooms.

The last destination is Tauriel's room. Tor-Hùrion lets go of her hand and suggest that she should get some rest before she will be forced to get out of the room again.

She's about to protest, but the serious look in his eyes and her own tiredness make her reconsider her thoughts. She nods and walks to the spacious bed. Her son closes the door to her room and she is alone. She lies down, promising to get up soon, but the sleep overtakes her fast.

* * *

She wakes up again, during the night.

She swears she heard the sound of the horns blowing through her sleep and that could only mean one thing – the king is back.

She's hoping that this doesn't bring any of bad news. The last time the army went out to protect the realm, they lost half of the soldiers. She hopes that the death toll will not be big now.

Nevertheless, curious she may be, she doesn't go out of her quarters.

Instead, she decides to walk around the suite. Her child is sleeping and she has time to observe everything in the room alone.

She has never been in this part of the palace before, even though she remembers a lot of about the former life in the palace. Her former quarters were always close to the barracks and much smaller than this. Even when she used to visit Legolas a lot, she never saw these guest quarters. She never had the privilege.

She wonders what has changed in the kingdom while she was gone.

Why Thranduil so decidedly forced her to live such an easy distance from his own rooms. What is going on in his mind?

Has something happened that she doesn't know of?

With her mind racing million miles per second, she moves back to her bedchamber, to lie down again. Her ankle and thigh start to hurt again and she notices tears running down her face.

And suddenly, all of she has been living through for most of the decade, catches up with her. She is unable to stop the flow of tears. She just sits there, on her bed, crying softly. She wept for the life she lost, for the love she lost, for the love she has in her son and for the loss her home.

Once again she is living in the mercy of other people and she doesn't like that. At all.

Living alone in the fields next to Anduin had its own perks. She lived alone, taking charge of her life and the life of her child. She always felt free and she really was. But the downside of living there was that even if she wanted to, she couldn't protect her or her son from organized attacks at her home.

Remembering her home makes her even sadder. She weeps, silently enough for Tor-Hùrion not to hear her.

She places her head against the pillow and tries to calm herself down, but it seems pointless.

Finally she decides to let the efforts fade, letting the tears fall freely.

For a longest of time, she continues crying until the sleep gets the best of her.

* * *

While she is preoccupied with her feelings, she doesn't notice the shadow moving around in her room. A dark form entered her quarters just before she lost any control over her feelings.

He had stayed there, in the shadow of the doorway of her room, to see her crumbling in front of him.

He wished to touch her, to let her know that he's there and he would make her feel better.

But he couldn't.

Instead, he retreated to his own chambers; laid down to his own bed and pondered over everything that had happened in these last few days.

He too had too much to think about.


	8. Chapter 8

Tauriel wakes up to a knocking at the door of her quarters.

She realises that she has fallen asleep with the same clothes on than yesterday and judging by the feel of her face, she probably have traces of tears there.

She makes a quick way to a little wash basin that is left in her room and quickly cleans washes away the tears. She walks to the door while drying her face and throws the light towel onto one of the shelves before opening the door.

It's Thranduil who is behind the door. Tauriel stares at him with her mouth slightly open. What is he doing in there? Wasn't he out and about with his army?

The king uses Tauriel's surprise as an invite to her room and steps in.

He looks regal with his usual silver robe and trousers. But this time, his crown is missing from his head, leaving his hair to flow with the air currents around him when he walks by.

Tauriel is about to protest, but she remembers her past experiences that it's useless to argue with him.

He's like a silent storm, it's better to let whatever is he wants to blow over.

So she just closes the door and looks at him without saying anything.

"Have you settled in yet?" he asks, walking around the room in regal manner, his voice sharp and authoritative.

"Yes."

"Where is your son?" he stops for a moment, looking towards the open doorways of the other rooms.

"I believe he's in the sword practice. I heard he was offered a spot in the group," she answers, smiling proudly.

For an unknown elf like Tor-Hùrion is, it's a great honour to be included as one of the trainees.

"Oh, really?" the king asks, raising his eyebrows. "When did that happen?"

"While I was in the houses of healing. He had time to befriend some of the elves his age," she explains.

Thranduil nods and starts pacing again, every now and then throwing glances at her general direction.

"Are you healed now?" He asks, eyeing her over from head to toe.

"I am quite well, thank you," she answers with a silent curtsey.

"I am pleased to hear that," he nods and stops in the middle of the room.

Tauriel is still standing at the doorway, her arms protectively on her chest.

She knows that something is wrong; otherwise the king would not be pacing here in her room. So, as per usual, she waits until he reveals why he is actually there. For all intense and purposes, he should not care about anything connected with her. But yet, there he is.

She doesn't have to wait.

Thranduil turns all of his attention to her.

And all of a sudden, she can feel a tension around them.

Something is definitely up.

She doesn't want to look him in the eyes.

She knows exactly what she will see in them. So, she looks at the ground.

"I hear you want to leave," he states. His voice now lacks the typical superior lilt it usually has. Instead, he sounds like he is uncertain and Tauriel is sure that there is a note of fear in there as well.

Tauriel nods.

"Why?" he asks softly.

"Why?" Tauriel echoes his question.

She's starting to feel a tingle of anger rising in her. How does he dare to ask her why she wants to leave? After all that has been between them, all that happened? Of course she wants to leave. She refuses to live where she is not welcomed.

She makes a strained sound of laughter. "

Are you really asking why?" she asks, looking into his eyes.

Thranduil is serious; his face doesn't betray any emotion.

Only his eyes are boring into her.

"Yes," his voice sounding strained.

Tauriel laughs again, feeling the frustration course through her veins.

She grits through her teeth. "Do you really think I want to stay here, after all this time? After all that happened?"

Thranduil looks down at his feet.

He must have been expecting this kind of a response, because he doesn't react to it much.

"Are you not willing to put everything behind you for the sake of your son?" he asks, his voice calm now, still not looking at her direction.

"What has my son to do with my decision?" Tauriel asks sounding confused.

Though she knows where he's going with the conversation. And she doesn't like it.

"Surely you don't think I am blind or stupid?" Thranduil asks back, looking back at her.

Tauriel raises her eyebrows.

He continues, his voice calm and authoritative. "Your son must be of my blood. I can see it in him. And I am not letting the son of my son to leave this kingdom, knowing that he might be in danger!"

"Son of your son?!" the words burst out of Tauriel and she looks at his stupid face with angered surprise.

She doesn't know if it would be right to hit him or yell at him.

Instead she lets out a growl of frustration and steps closer to him.

She pokes him in the chest with her finger and stares him in the eyes, her green eyes battling with the force of his stormy blues.

Slowly, each word covered in anger, she says. "Do you really think that Tor-Hùrion is Legolas's son? Do you really think that … after all this time, after all … after…" she pauses for a second, searching for words, "Do you really think I could do _this_ to him?"

Thranduil's face contorts in confusion. "He's not the son of Legolas? So… you didn't…?"

Tauriel sighs.

"Why would I ever do such thing? I love Legolas. I have always loved him. He's the best friend one could never have. But even though he had feelings for me, I loved him as a friend. Nothing more."

Thranduil is still in the state of confusion.

He was so sure it had to be Legolas. Tor-Hùrion looks so much like him that it's creeping him out.

"But who?" he asks out loud, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Tauriel stares at him pointedly _. Really?_ Her eyes seem to say.

Suddenly, flashes of the past hit his thoughts and he closes his eyes for a moment, letting the images to flow in his mind.

 _Skin against skin, slow caress of the hand on her back, her hands on his bare chest, the feel of her soft body against his._

He opens his eyes in realization.

He looks down at her and Tauriel's face betrays everything.

He realizes now what she has been trying to say to him.

He narrows his eyes at her and grabs her by her arm, pulling her closer to him. His voice is low and dangerous when he says, "Do you really think I will let _my son_ go anywhere now?"

Tauriel's body tenses at these words, but she is not retreating from his anger. Instead she pushes her chin forward and states, "He's my son too!"

"I am the king," he demands, lowering his head towards her face. "You have no power over me."

In the back of her mind, Tauriel understands the situation perfectly and it would be better for her to just let him go through the rush of emotions, but her pride doesn't want to let him get away that easily. She decides to anger him more. After all, he deserves this.

"I am no subject of yours," she whispers, her voice hoarse with frustration. "I can do whatever I want. And so can Hùrion."

"No," Thranduil presses himself even closer to her. "You can not. I am not allowing this nonsense."

She is about to open her mouth to protest against his words again, but it's too late.

His mouth covers hers in a flash and before she realizes, his lips are working against hers and his arms are holding her close to him, not letting her escape.

She moans in surprise as the feel of him is so tantalizingly familiar and yet so frustrating. But she cannot do anything else but yield and answer his demanding lips.

His fingers tighten around her arms when he feels her answer to his kiss. He pulls her even closer.

Tauriel starts to tremble when his tongue begs an access to her mouth and without thinking, she allows it.

They both moan in the first meeting of their tongues and Thranduil's hand moves to cradle the back of her neck to deepen the kiss even more.

He's towering over her and her hands tentatively touch his sides before she allows them to sneak around his waist.

As suddenly as he started the kiss, he finishes it. He pulls himself away from her, panting loudly.

Tauriel, who is also panting from the lack of air, opens her eyes in confusion.

He has already turned himself away from her and Tauriel lets out a sigh.

"I can't," Thranduil whispers.


	9. Chapter 9

"I can't," Thranduil whispers.

The emotions rush back to him.

He should be angry at her.

He has a son!

The visions of his first meeting of Tor-Hùrion flash back to him and he curses.

He should have realised earlier. He should have realised that underneath the fire in the young ellon's eyes, the silence of the storm lay there.

He should have recognized his own blood coursing through his son's veins. But he didn't.

He cannot fathom the importance of the revelation. He has a son.

He has a another son.

He turns slowly to Tauriel and looks at her.

She's watching him with big green eyes, afraid and searching for answers.

Thranduil remembers those exact eyes some decades ago. Then they carried another kind of emotion.

Love.

He remembers the Feast of Isilme in that particular year. In its essence, _Mereth Nuin Giliath_ is for the elves to have a feast to celebrate the starlight. Because the Mirkwood elves, having not seen the Light of the Trees, they love the light of the stars the best. It has been their constant companion in this world for millennias.

But for him, the day meant another year of being parted from his dear wife.

He could have been happy, if he would ever see her in Undying lands, if he finally decided to sail there.

But no, he never even had that chance; _Istil_ had died in the hands of the Witch-king – her body and soul never reaching for the Halls of Mandos, trapped in the evil of the Sauron.

So, in the end of all things, he would never meet his soul mate again, even if he wanted to.

And the Feast of Starlight for him was the remembrance day of his wife's death.

From that particular celebration, he remembers being extra bitter and harsh with people around him.

It was the thousandth of year of _Istil's_ death. He had been alone for a thousand of years and he needed to forget his pain. So the only thing he could do was to drink and try to be merry for the sake of his people.

He was not sure how or why Tauriel had crossed his path in the halls of his palace, but they had ended up talking and walking together towards his rooms.

Deep inside him, he knew that Tauriel loved him.

But he also knew that Legolas was in love with Tauriel as well. Not a good idea for his son, but in this moment, he hoped that maybe she was in love with him too, so he would not get hurt in the end.

But in his mind, he had always been sure that the way Tauriel loved him was purely platonical love, a love of a respect and admiration.

Walking with her in the vast halls of the realm, he caught her looking at him and he saw the same look in her eyes he had been missing for a thousand of years. He saw the look of real love in her eyes. In that tiny moment, he knew that it was the real kind of love that one elf could have towards another elf. Real, hard, passionate romantic love.

And in his wine-induced haze he made a decision.

He had been alone for too long and he found himself physically needing her company.

He kissed her in the middle of the halls. Savoured her lips against his, the touch of her fingers on his neck. For one night, he decided to forget everything and allow himself to feel.

One thing lead to another and the morning sun found them tangled in the bed together.

And it was alarming for Thranduil, because he had done it because of emptiness of the heart, not because he had loved her.

He regretted his decision ever since.

He had ruined her chances to be happy, he had ruined her. Because in essence, elves just don't fall in love fast nor do they stop loving. Elves can die of a broken heart and he really didn't want to break the poor young soul that Tauriel was to him.

When he had tried to explain himself in the morning, Tauriel had stormed out from his room with tears in her eyes.

He had broken her.

One way or another.

After their encounter, Tauriel had buried herself to her duties as a Captain of the Guard, barely seeing the king and always on patrol. She was ingoring him as much as she could.

Legolas had seen the shift in her behaviour and was asking Thranduil to do something about it. But the king didn't know how or what he could do to mend the broken heart of the young elf.

Soon enough, the patrol found the dwarves in the forest and Thranduil was forced to confront Tauriel in his chambers.

He saw her restlessness and hurt in her eyes.

He was mad at himself and angry at her that she had woken up some feelings inside him, that were laying dormant for a thousand of years.

Words were exchanged and soon he felt the consequences of his actions.

She was gone, escaped.

In pursuit of a retched dwarf.

Had she gotten over of her love that fast and fell for the damned dwarf? Was this really love she was feeling towards him?

What did she know of love?

And of course, Legolas had followed her, as he always did.

In the following days, he felt the hole in her heart widen once more.

He missed Legolas and he missed Tauriel even more.

Without even realizing it, his heart had started to sing whenever Tauriel was close to him and looking at him. He hadn't noticed the melody of his heartstrings until it was too late. He found himself falling in love with her, but she was gone.

The death of the fire-breathing serpent was a good excuse for Thranduil to arm his forces and start the trip towards the Lonely Mountain. He wished that Tauriel and Legolas would be there and he could convince them both to come home.

But instead he was greeted with death and destruction.

In the midst of the battle, Tauriel had turned against him, accusing him of the lack of love in him.

He wanted to laugh in her face then and there. Because it was ironic, coming in the mouth of the one he was falling in love with. Instead, his anger got the best of him and he had broken her bow and accused her of knowing nothing of the world.

And too soon, she was gone and so was his son.

In his days of emotional constipation, he had managed to frighten away everybody who had ever loved him.

When he was walking up the stairs of Ravenhill, after the battle, he was sure he would find Tauriel in there and somehow maybe manage to talk her and Legolas to come and return to the halls of the Mirkwood.

But what he saw in there made him realise that it was too late. Legolas had felt the burn of rejection and needed to get out of there. And Tharnduil let his son go, knowing that he very well may not return to him again.

When he reached to the ruins, he found Tauriel crying over the body of the dead dwarf.

The vision of her sadness, the pain she was in, it reminded him too much of his own pain and he couldn't just turn away from her.

He had lived through the thousand years of mourning; he would have done everything in his power to shield Tauriel from it. But yet, there she was, her heart crying out for the dead dwarf.

He realised then, that maybe it wasn't real love he had seen in her eyes during that faithful night. Maybe she really loved the dwarf and not him?

Whatever the case was, he knew that he didn't want to lose her again. It didn't matter to him anymore if the love for him was real or not.

All that he knew was that he had strong feelings towards the mourning elf and he wanted to do anything to make her better.

He was too tired of being angry and bitter, it was time to be better and it was time to be open to the world beyond his realm. Tauriel had been right, she was always right. He had shielded himself away from the world and now, he saw that the world needed him. He could not stay in the darkness of his caves anymore.

He left Tauriel for a moment, to let her mourn Kili in peace. When he returned to escort her back to Dale, he couldn't find her anywhere. His heart contracted in pain when he realized she had escaped. Once again, he had lost the person who had loved him.

He ordered his army to search everywhere close to Dale and Erebor, but there was nothing. No trace of her. It was as if she vanished into thin air.

And now, all those years later, the one who opened his heart to the world again, was standing in front of him.

He could see the love she still had for him underneath the layers of fear and anger.

He wasn't going to give her up now, just when she had returned to him. She could not leave him again, not if he could do anything about it.

"I cannot let you go again." He whispers again, his teeth pressed together, holding back the storm of emotions inside him.

Tauriel fixes her eyes on him.

"As I said, Thranduil, you have no power over me anymore." Her voice is shaking. "I can decide my own fate."

"Tauriel," he breathes out heavily, his eyes pleading. "You misunderstand me."

Tauriel shakes her head, but before she can say anything, Thranduil stops her. He feels the anger and in him to fade and suddenly he feels calm. "I have lost everybody in my life. First my father, then my love _Istil_. Legolas and you. Everybody whom I have ever loved has left me. I cannot let you leave again, not anymore, Tauriel."

For a moment, Tauriel looks at him in surprise and then laughs at his words.

"You don't love me, Thranduil," she shakes head, "No, you made that really clear to me."

The anger returns to him with a fresh wave and he growls in frustration. Before he can formulate a protest in his head, Tauriel continues.

"You are just saying this, so your son would stay here. Is that it?"

Thranduil shakes his head silently but Tauriel is not really seeing him or hearing anything he is saying.

She continues. "You must understand he is old enough to make his own decisions."

 _"Far,"_ Thranduil growls out. "You do not hear me, Tauriel."

Tauriel steps closer to him and squints her eyes in anger. "I do not need to. I know you, King of Mirkwood, I know that you do not care about anybody but yourself."

All the feelings he had been holding back rush back to him with a tidal wave. He does the only thing he can really do.

He grabs the hold of her shoulder and pulls her into his embrace.

Tauriel's protests get lost into his mouth as he is kissing her lips with an abandon. She tries to fight with him first, but soon she seems to give up and melts into his kiss.

He savours the taste of her. It has been too long since he felt like this.

The fact that Tauriel is in his arms makes his soul vibrate in utter satisfaction. He has been longing to do that for decades and nothing in the world could stop him now.

He needs her like elves need the light of the stars.

He needs her like Beren needed Lùthien.

He just cannot let her go.

He brings his hand to back of her neck as the other one sneaks to the small of her back.

He needs her closer.

By shifting the angle of their embrace, he thrusts his tongue to her mouth. The action is met with approval and Tauriel lets loose a sigh. Thranduil deepens the kiss and he is sure he can see stars around them, even if his eyes are closed. The fire of Tauriel burns brightly inside him. He will never let it fade.

Suddenly there is a knocking sound nearby and reluctantly Thranduil parts from Tauriel and looks at the direction where the sound came from.

Tor-Hùrion is on the doorway, watching the both of them in utter surprise.

" _Naneth_?"


End file.
